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This chapter is an examination of what is meant by the term ‘Good Farmer’ and whether or not this is compatible with being a good businessperson. The term ‘Feckless Farmer’ is introduced to describe someone who is the opposite of a Good Farmer. And all of this is considered with reference to the farmers of the village of Ambridge in the West Midlands, with special emphasis on the practices of Brian Aldridge and his recent issues with contamination of his land and neighbouring watercourses. This work starts by defining key terms before moving on to consider the similarities and differences between farms and other types of businesses. The different philosophical paradigms that can underlie different definitions and practices of a Good Farmer are also explored. The ways that the economies of farms differ from most businesses will also be discussed. With some conclusions being drawn as to whether Mr Aldridge is a Good Farmer or a Feckless one, and if he deserved to be lauded as an award-winning businessperson.

The Grundys are the alternative world of Ambridge. Invariably down on their luck, often portrayed as lazy if not feckless and usually incompetent. This chapter speaks up for the downtrodden of Borsetshire and in particular the Grundys. It looks at the development of the Grundy family in The Archers over almost 50 years now. It relates key elements in their lives, looking not just at the class struggle in the village but also the importance of gender in this. It draws on key players in the Grundy story from the 1970s including the late radio DJ John Peel who was for a time an enthusiast for The Archers and who played Eddie Grundy's records on his BBC Radio One show. It also looks at the views of key Archers figures such as Vanessa Whitburn and Keri Davies and how they have approached the Grundys. It uses the work of Marx and Engels to try to explain how it is that the Grundys moved from being small farmers to landless labourers. What the chapter doesn't do is to map out a strategy for the liberation of the Grundys from their oppression. It does however look forward to a world turned upside down when at 19.02 hours on a weekday evening on BBC Radio 4 we hear a programme called not The Archers, but The Grundys.

Our perceptions of real crime, law and justice can be manipulated by fiction. This chapter addresses whether The Archers helps us better understand today's offenders, their crimes and its policing. Some of Ambridge's known offenders are split into three categories to help explore whether usual criminal story lines and characters, seen and heard elsewhere, are perpetuated or subverted in Borsetshire. If they support usual tropes, this tells us how we view the management of crime in the twenty-first century rural idyll: outsiders are not to be trusted, the misdemeanours of the pastoral poor are tolerated, and the actions of elites brushed aside. In Ambridge, we regularly hear examples of reintegrative shaming supporting desistance from crime. Those propping up the Bull's bar might disapprove of criminal actions, but they recognise people's roles in village cohesion. Sgt. Harrison Burns preserves his identity as a dedicated police officer. Being a rural copper often means having to deal with a wide range of crimes – from attempted murder to anti-social behaviour – but on a less frequent basis than those based in Felpersham. While Harrison might not have great detective skills, he regularly supports colleagues from specialist units, and as the only officer in the village, should use his social networks and tea spots to help maintain Ambridge's mostly orderly conduct. It is questionable to what extent he does this, being at times perceptive about and dismissive of clues to significant criminal activity going on under his nose.

We live in very adversarial political times. Tribalism and hateful rhetoric abound. This chapter argues that this state of affairs was an inevitable consequence of political cable television. I blame Ted Turner and CNN. Once Ted showed the world that news could be a profit center, competition, differentiation, and partisan one-sided coverage in broadcasting were inevitable. Product differentiation of cable news stations coupled with confirmation biases that lead viewers to watch networks on which the broadcasters reinforce their political views polarizes public opinion. The chapter concludes with suggestions for climbing out of the downward spiral.

Much writing on dissenting intellectuals posits a uniform relationship between autonomy from the popular element and social influence. The case of U.S. poets from 1930 to 1975 challenges this, as dissenting poets' sphere of influence grew during the hegemony of populist as well as antipopulist movements. In order to account for this, this chapter draws on the conceptualization of autonomy as a process whose parameters are mutually irreducible and potentially contradictory. Where these parameters are more or less fully synchronized, dissenting intellectuals face a united bloc of opponents that they cannot divide; therefore, they need to fight all of these opponents simultaneously. Where there is little such synchronization, in contrast, they can negotiate temporary alliances with some of their foes, use these alliances to secure gains in more important fronts, and revise their alliances as circumstances change. Twentieth-century United States, this chapter argues, was an example of the latter kind of setting. Dissenting poets were able to use universities and popular element against one another, depending on how they saw their overall situation. When autonomy from universities mattered most, they reclaimed the popular element; when autonomy from the popular element mattered most, they set aside their differences with university administrators and joined the academic ranks. This distinction between greater and less synchronization of the powers, the chapter argues, has implications for political sociology beyond the study of intellectuals.

I completed a degree in classics at Cambridge and entered the British Civil Service. After a moderately successful, if unremarkable career, I took an early retirement and now live in London, spending my now free time at the opera and the theatre …. No, that's not right. Start again. Having decided to become a social anthropologist, I had my first experience of fieldwork on the island of Crete. I went on to specialise in the anthropology of modern Greece, and also wrote several popular books about people and places in Greece. I now live in one of the picturesque hill-towns of the Peloponnese …. No, not that either. Try once more. My father, who was a gifted amateur photographer, gave me a classic Rolleiflex camera for my 21st birthday, and I became a professional photographer, specialising in documentary photographic essays on social conditions in rural Europe. No, not that either …. I combined my first degree in social anthropology with a postgraduate training in linguistics. I went on to research and publish on discourse and social interaction, bringing together interactionist sociology, anthropology and semiotics. Well, not quite …. As you will see, all of these – and other – lives might have been mine. The actual life seems no more coherent than those shreds of unrealised possibilities.

Section one of this chapter is a description of what ‘The Green New Deal’ is and how it could be financed. The term was first coined by the author and the report of the same name was first published in July 2008 by the New Economics Foundation (nef) to deal with the ‘triple crunch’ of climate change, energy insecurity/price instability and the financial and economic meltdown (nef, 2008).